


Angelus Mortis

by GrimmGrimmly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24750142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmGrimmly/pseuds/GrimmGrimmly
Summary: The life of a hunter is a hard one. Thankfully, you were more of a...how did Dean put it? Glorified librarian? Either way, you helped the brothers as they fought head on things even your worst nightmares couldn't conjure up. But now you're being thrust into an adventure you didn't ask for. And let's just say all hell's going to break loose...again.I haven't been in this fandom for a long time so it's gonna be retconned, OOC, and incorrect as hell. But, and I swear, it should be fun! Also, this is my first ever fanfiction so please be mostly gentle with me.
Relationships: Azrael/Reader
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, ya'll!  
> Thank you so much for clicking on this fic. If you stick with it, please let me know of any possible triggers so I can warn you of them in future chapters. There will definitely be gore, sexual situations, a LOT of swearing, booze, drugs, and so much more. So don't be afraid to reach out! That being said, enjoy!

_Why shouldst thou fear the beautiful angel, Death,  
Who waits thee at the portals of the skies,  
Ready to kiss away thy struggling breath,  
Ready with gentle hand to close thine eyes?_

_  
-Adelaide Anne Procter_

* * *

Being a hunter was a hard ass gig.

Thank god you technically weren’t one.

You coughed as you opened another dusty tome, something _Maleficarum_ or other. You weren’t really sure since the words were starting to blur together. You’d been awake for about...36 hours now?

Sam and Dean were on a case (hunting a witch, maybe five) and you were their information lifeline as per usual. If they needed something, you were on it like flies on shit.

Jesus. You screwed up your face. You really were tired. You were starting to sound like Dean. 

“Alright!” You announced to the empty room, “I call it. I’m done.”

You got up from the comfy chair you had been stationed in and stretched before sending a simple text to the brothers to not bother you for at least four hours unless it was absolutely urgent. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be.

Letting out a nice long yawn, you slowly shuffled to your room. You didn’t even bother turning on the lights and collapsed onto your bed. You kicked at the covers, hoping to move them enough so you could snuggle under them but...they seemed to be caught on something. 

Puzzled, you kicked harder, only for your foot to meet with something solid.

You froze.

Making sure not to make any sudden movements, you slowly reached your hand over to turn on the bedside lamp. As light flooded the room, your eyes settled on a figure perched on the edge of your bed. It was a man. And goddammit you couldn’t help it.

You screamed.


	2. Don't Fear the Reaper

Pamela, or as you liked to call her when you were younger, "Ella", was your older sister. It wasn't easy being the sibling to a psychic. She knew your thoughts, your feelings. You honestly couldn't get away with anything, especially since she was all you had. Your parents had died when you were younger. 

The worst downside, however, was that even at a young age, you knew that some of the monsters you feared as a kid, the things that went bump in the night, they were terrifyingly real. Your sister had made a habit of helping these "hunters" (as she called them) keep these monsters at bay. You remembered many a night when mysterious men and women would appear, staying up late into the night in the kitchen with your sister as they talked of ghosts, vampires, and ghouls. As they talked about how to kill them. 

You were about eighteen when the Winchesters first showed up on yours and Ella's doorstep. Sam had been your favorite, always taking time to offer you a soft smile and ask questions about your dreams and educational pursuits. You were just coming into your own psychic abilities then, much to your surprise and, honestly, your trepidation as well. You had seen what these powers meant to Pamela, and honestly, you weren't ready for that kind of responsibility. You met Castiel as well, though you never really cared for him, just like your sister. It was he who technically blinded her, after all. 

He came around less frequently.

Then Ella died and you were left completely alone. 

You remembered that night, opening the door only to see Sam and Dean and... no Pamela. You remember asking about her, only to see their sorrowful faces. A demon. A fucking demon had killed her. You had collapsed to the ground and everything blurred together after that. Dean gently helping you to your feet. Sam escorted you to your room and asked if there was anyone they could call. 

You stayed with an estranged aunt for awhile then. Two weeks at most and then you bolted. College was forgotten. All you wanted was your sister back, or, at the very least, revenge on the godforsaken creatures that took her from you. 

And so you became what you had feared in the beginning: a psychic for hire. 

You never stayed in one place for very long and it was in that way you met up with the Winchesters over a year later. You had been having terrible visions of the future, or, what was left of it. The apocalypse. And they were smack dab in the center of it. You helped them with what you could- you still didn't have much control over your powers. And then, crisis averted. And you parted ways again, this time without Sam. He was in hell. And honestly, you felt that it was your fault. You saw it coming. You should have been able to stop it. And now Dean...Dean was broken beyond repair. 

More years passed. Sam came back; soulless this time. You still helped out when you could, making sure you stayed out of the front lines. As much as you wanted to take down demons on your own, you weren't ready. You didn't have anyone to train you since the brothers absolutely refused, or at least, on Sam's part, didn't care enough to do so. 

And then, Sam got his soul back, Castiel tried to become God, and Leviathans became a thing. It all culminated with Dean and Cas going to purgatory. When they came back, things were different. It was again a rush to save the world- close the Gates of Hell. You happily helped them with that. Anything to get back at the demons. And then there was Metatron. And the angels fell. 

The Winchesters took residence in the bunker and after helping them for so long, you joined, just for convenience. It surprised you that you hadn't died yet. People around them tended to. But here you were, safe, or so you thought. This never should have happened. No one should have been able to get in. 

After your surprised scream faded into nothingness, the strange man continued to stare. He didn't seem fazed, not in the slightest. 

You bolted, making for the knife you kept hidden. Yeah, Sam and Dean (mostly Dean) had made fun of you for it, but hopefully, it would come in handy now. 

You didn't make it very far. 

Suddenly he was in front of you, blocking your way. He didn't touch you, no, but the unnerving steel gray eyes of his made you feel trapped in place regardless. As you stood stock still, he tilted his head to the side. It was a curious motion, childlike almost. Now, where had you seen that before...

"Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?" you snapped. You were shaking like a leaf; you weren't used to confrontation, that's why you worked behind the scenes for the Winchesters for chrissakes. You still hadn't convinced them to train you. 

He merely tilted his head to the other side, examining you closely. 

You did the same and gave him a quick once over. He was taller than you and broad and muscular. You could see tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt and the hem of his sleeves. His hair was brown. Tousled. Overall he looked like some hot biker dude. Fuck. You couldn't fight some hot biker dude. Not even on your best day. 

If- no, when you got out of this, you'd have to push Sam and Dean for at least some basic defense training. In the meantime, you were going to have to buy some time and use your brain to figure a way out of this. 

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself, meeting his eyes once again. 

"What do you want?"

As you watched him ponder this, you reached into the depths of his mind, attempting to find anything that could help you figure out how to get the upper hand on this guy. 

It was like running into a mental brick wall. You almost fell back as his steely gaze fixed on yours once more. What the hell? Why couldn't you read him?

A moment of silence followed, neither of you daring to move, so it almost made you shit yourself when he finally spoke. "I take it Sam and Dean are not here."

"Nope and," you quickly added, "they're never coming back. This is my place. So get out."

The man looked at you confused. "Why are you lying?"

Fuck. Lying really wasn't your strong suit. 

"I'm not."

He took a step closer and you immediately took one back. 

Another confused head tilt. "You are frightened."

Was he for real? "Um, yeah? There's a strange man in my room!"

He looked contemplative for a minute before nodding. "I see. This is not customary."

Then it dawned on you. The formal speech, the curious head tilts, the disregard for personal boundaries. This man had to be-

"An angel." SHIT, you should not have said that out loud. 

The man narrowed his eyes. "How did you know?" 

He began to move towards you again and in a rush of panic, you bolted. You leaped to the side and scrambled over the bed and towards the door only for a strong hand to grab your wrist and yank you back into a firm chest. You attempted to scramble back but faster than you would have liked he had your other wrist in an ironclad grip. 

You immediately began to struggle but it was hopeless. Even with all the angels having lost their mojo, you were still outmatched. 

"How did you get in here?" You demanded. Looking up at him again as you slowed your struggling. 

"I walked through the front door." He said slowly, looking down at you thoughtfully before releasing you." 

You snatched your hands back into your chest and backed up a bit. Well, that was super vague. And something was telling you he didn't want to elaborate on the matter. In any normal situation, you'd just psychic it out of him, but the mental blocks on his brain were like nothing you'd ever seen before. At least it didn't seem like he wanted to kill you. So far. Maybe if you could just get him talking you could figure out why the hell he was here. 

"So why are you here then?"

"I need to speak with Sam and Dean." 

"About what exactly?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. There was no way in hell you were letting this guy anywhere near the brothers. Castiel was the only angel you "trusted" and he was on fucking thin ice. 

He paused before finally saying, "We have an...intersection of interests, I suppose."

"So you want Metatron dead too, huh?"

He looked at you surprised.

"You could say that." 

"How do I know you're not on Metatron's side? 

He bristled and you immediately scrambled back.

"He took everything from me. From my brothers. From my sisters. He must pay." 

"Who are you?" You asked, trying to refrain from cowering as the sudden onslaught of emotion threatened to overwhelm you. 

Like a light switch flipping, his anger cooled. It was almost as if he could sense your distress. 

"I am Azrael."

You stared in awe. 

Azrael was the Angel of Death. And he was in your room.


End file.
